Confess
by anonymouslyknown111
Summary: A Sherlolly Romance (because there's just not enough of it, is there?), rated M for language and later content. But naughty in parts, but shows the trials and tribulations modern dating can have. Read, review, just enjoy. Loved writing it. Disclaimer: I own nothing.
1. Chapter 1

Molly knew full well it was John and Mary's wedding on Saturday, yet there she was trawling round a department store frantically searching for something to wear. Cursing herself for allowing herself to yet again, leave this until the last minute, she settled on a minimal, scooped back black dress. Deciding she would make do with the simple black heels she had a home, she became weary of the time and headed home as the city became illuminated with street lamps.

Why was she so tired? Without switching on the lights, she hustled through her front door of her adequate apartment and dumped her bags and coat on the bed before making the way to her small kitchen, aware that Toby was making a fuss- probably due to the fact Molly hadn't come home since she left at 6am this morning. It was late and she felt her eyes twitching with tiredness. Flicking on the spotlights that hung above the small table, she scooped some cat food in a bowl and chucked it to the floor. Deciding it was too late for food, and with the fact she had to fit into a relatively slim dress the next morning, she decided to skip dinner, and pour herself a large helping of wine. The light was flicked off and she made for the bathroom adjoining her bedroom.

After a shower and a few good gulps of the wine, she felt like a zombie as she pulled on shorts and an oversized shirt. Tipping the rest of the wine down the sink, she brushed her teeth in front of the mirror. She caught her own gaze in her reflection and her eyes sank to the shirt she'd wearily pulled on. Sherlock. It was Sherlock's tshirt he'd left befor eye moved back to Baker Street. "Well, he probably forgot it, it was under the sofa." Unaware of herself talking aloud, she stared at the black cotton before a thud against, what sounded like her front door, shook her out of her walking coma. Silence. She tip-toed to the front door and waited, weighing up the decision to get something along the lines of a weapon from the kitchen. The thud was softer this time, but it was accompanied with a whimper. A sickly, nauseating feeling crept into Molly's stomach. She knew exactly what was on the other side of the door. Marching to the door, she tentatively unlocked it and pulled it open.  
Molly never got over Sherlock's stay at her own apartment before he returned to the world, and to John, as a miracle. It was very rarely she saw him now, unless he needed something at St Barts. They'd grew to, what she believed as friends, as she nursed his wounds after he'd returned from a secret case. Much to her dismay, nothing but awkward stares and loud silences surrounded them when her hands tended to his chest, or she saw him swagger out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

Yet here he was. Slumped in a drunken stupor against the wooden frame of Molly's front door. Aware it was now gone 1am, she just looked at him, her brows furrowed and confusion tainting her face. _Is he drunk? _He stepped forward, a little too forced, and opened his mouth as if too speak. Before confusion took over his facial features, Molly began, "Sherlock, what on earth are you doing here?" She moved to grant him entrance to her flat. He made his way over to the sofa, stumbling and swearing at the cat, a grin on his sharp face all the way. "John's stag night, Miss Hooper. I believe I have drunk more than I believed I could handle." He whipped off his coat and scarf and, in a way that could only be described as flamboyant, threw them gracefully onto the sofa. Understanding a little better for his behaviour, she locked the door behind him and instinctively went to put the kettle on. Reaching into the cupboard for two mugs and the tea bags, Molly felt frustrated that her evening had been disturbed, not that it was much of an evening, than of an early morning plan of sleep. He heard him kick off his shoes and possibly throw them at Toby whilst swearing once again.

Angry now, she chucked in the tea bags a little too violently into the mugs and span around intending to get the milk out the fridge, instead bumping furiously into Sherlock's chest. He looked at her questioningly, "Molly, why are you wearing my shirt?" Horror struck her face and her cheeks bruised a violent shade of crimson as she looked down at the shirt, unbuttoned to her breasts and just covering the short briefs she had on beneath. _Shit_. Before she had the time to formulate an answer, she felt his slender fingers under her chin, lifting her face up towards the gaze of his blue-bauble eyes. He left his hand there for a few moments before taking Molly's hand and pressing her, lightly against the countertop. Moments passed again before the kettle screaming it's finish. Breaking the tension between them, Sherlock backed away and left the kitchen. Molly exhaled, slumping down from her tip-toes, and finishing the tea.

When she plucked up the courage to return with the tea to the living room, she talked herself into not making a big deal out of what just happened. He's drunk. She picked up the mugs and walked in to find Sherlock lounging on the sofa, shirt unbuttoned and feet up on the coffee table. Brushing back her hair behind her ear, she slumped down, facing him and thrusting the mug in front of him. He took it and took a great full sip, before reclining his head back against the wall, eyes tight shut. "What's going on Sherlock? Why are you here?" She slurped her tea, wincing at the sound and her replied accordingly;

"Boring question. Good question- why are you wearing my shirt?" He was looking at her again, shifting her uncomfortably in her place. He placed his mug on the coffee table and turned himself to face her. She became very aware that his shirt was unbuttoned, as was her own, and his hand had made its way onto her knee. Hands trembling her mug, she answered timidly, "I didn't know it was yours.. It's comfy" she was watching his hand gently stroke her knee and paint illicit circles with his fingers. He looked at her, "Molly.. You know full well it's mine. My deductions lead me to believe you like to wear it, because it's mine". The way he annunciated mine made Molly's legs unwittingly open. Sherlock's hand made it's way painfully slowly up Molly's thigh, he continued, "I think, you wear it to feel.. close to me". Molly's throat was dry, her eyes unwavering from his gaze, she was sat unbelievably still, questions circling round her head so fast it was giving her a headache.

Sherlock leaned over and took her mug, placing it next to his on the coffee table, his other hand not moving from the top of her thigh. Her legs relaxed across his knee, opening again, involuntarily. His other hand now worked its way under her bum, squeezing slightly and pulling her closer to him. Noticing the seductive, yet dangerous smile on his face, she was well aware of the rucking of his trousers, mimicking her own arousal. Looking at each other, not knowing how or where to go from here, Molly made a decision she has yet to evaluate if she regretted it. "Sherlock, you're drunk. And I'm going to bed." With that, she moved swiftly from under him and marched to the bedroom. She didn't look back at his face before making sure she locked her bedroom door. She threw herself on her bed and fell asleep almost immediately, her dreams littered with Sherlock's face.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Sherlock was gone. Molly knew by the silence of the flat he'd left. Sighing with disappointment yet relief, Molly looked at her clock. Fuck. The wedding was in two hours. Fleeing to the bathroom, she was a blur getting ready, cursing Sherlock for not waking her earlier as he left. _He left_.

The ceremony went without a hitch, tears were shed and everyone wore a smile. Molly knew she'd made the right choice to decline being bridesmaids. Fuchsia was definitely not her colour. Sat a few rows from the front, Molly consciously made the biggest effort not to look at Sherlock, or his arse for that matter in the best-man tuxedo. She desperately tried not to think of last night, she had thought about that enough this morning as she got ready for the wedding.

A couple of hours passed, and Molly was making small talk with a relative of John's when Sherlock approached her.

"Molly, you look-" he began, hands behind his back, stooping slightly. Was that a blush?

"Stunning! What a fabulous dress sweetheart!" Mary brushed passed Sherlock, embracing Molly in her arms. Happiness suited Mary's pixie face.

"Mary, don't be silly. You look beautiful, it was a wonderful ceremony." Molly replied, noticing another glass of Chardonnay thrust into her hand by a merry Mary.

"You're not being an arrogant twat again, are you Sherlock?" Mary looked at him, her arm thrown around Molly, looking at him expectantly.

"I was complimenting Molly. Although, if I were to be picky, the shade of dress Molly. Black? Hardly appropriate for a wedding. Your skin looks pasty it accentuates the shallowness of your cheeks rather than the intention to accentuate your curves." He eyed her, taking a glass of champagne from one of the dinner servers and sipping it tentatively. Still aware of the headache that accompanied the hangover this morning.

Mary marched off to, no doubt, attack John with the comments Sherlock had passed over Molly. Trying to hold back a sob, anger filling every inch of her reddening face, Molly stared daggers back into Sherlock's eyes.

"How dare you" left her lips, barely more than a whisper. She stalked off towards the bar, and threw back the glass of wine before shamelessly ordering another.

Several hours later, along with a couple of bottles, Molly had successfully worked herself up. Angry, tired and alone, she gazed at the dissipating dance floor. Mary's head slumped on John's shoulder, as they barely swayed on the dance floor. Allowing herself to look for Sherlock, she quickly dismissed him to have left earlier, probably claiming it the wedding was dull.  
Grabbing her glass, she swayed and stepped outside onto the veranda. The cold, sharpe air cutting her airways. Looking into the dark, cloud filled sky, Molly felt an overwhelming feeling of being alone. _Alone_.


	3. Chapter 3

"You're cold". She heard the voice before feeling his jacket wrap her shoulders.

"I thought you'd left. Thought you'd have found it _boring_." She smirked as she said this, yet to face him. "Either that Sherlock, or you'd got drunk and tried it on with someone". As soon as she said it, she regretted it. She wished she could have caught the words and forced them back as they left her mouth. Molly, drunk herself, felt Sherlock stiffen behind her. The atmosphere changed, yet her drunken words continued to vomit out her mouth.

"Because that's what you do! You lead on your friend, who'd taken you in when you had nobody, nowhere to go. You lead me on, though you know how I feel about you." She was angry now. She turned towards him, his jaw clenched and his eyes steeling. She struck him. It came from nowhere, just her own, pent up anger and frustration at his beautifully silent face.  
He barely flinched and her hand instinctively to her mouth, catching her gasp. Molly _ran_. Molly ran home.

Slamming the door behind her, Molly was sobbing inconsolably. Her instincts kicked in and she went to the bathroom to run the bath. Looking at her face, now clown like from the rain that caught her and her tears that continued to spill down her face, she looked at her pitiful self and scowled. Fetching another glass of wine from the kitchen, Molly returned to the bathroom and threw off her clothes. Dipping herself in the hot water, it pleasantly scolded her skin. Her head rested on the cold tiles. She stayed like this for a few moments, until she could taste the sweet sweat on her upper lip, and feel the salty steaming her face like a mirror. Throwing back the rest of her wine, she pressed the cool glass against her forehead. Finally feeling calm, she heard the front door open and shut softly. Her eyes snapped open immediately, feeling the same nausea that accompanied any meeting with Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock sat on the floor next to the bathroom door and heard Molly move around in the bathtub, water splashing against the marble sides. She spoke first, still in the tub after several minutes of deciding what the best thing to do was.

"I'm sorry for hitting you" she murmured.

Sherlock loosened his bowtie and took off his jacket and shoes. He need not reply before she spoke again.

"You make me so angry Sherlock. I thought we were friends.. But you make things so difficult. Always. always.." She drifted off and began again..

"I notice things about you Sherlock. You always leave a mouthful of coffee in your mug because you think it'll be too sweet in case you haven't stirred it properly. You smile when you think you've said something witty or clever that I don't know or understand. You're face was an epitome of heartbroken whenever I mentioned I'd seen John..." Tears were falling again from her face, whilst Sherlock listened intently, understanding what Molly was implicating.

She took in a sharpe breath; "You know I love you Sherlock, and you use it to your full power. You ask me for things at the morgue, you manipulate me into staying here when John's had enough of you, you manipulate me by flirting.." She felt her whole body blush as she flash-backed to last night. "I don't know how to feel around you anymore, you make me so nervous." She finished, sighing.

It was Sherlock's time to feel frustrated. Remaining silent throughout Molly's monologue, it was due time to input his own feelings.

"Molly Hooper, do you really believe I manipulate you? I fact don't answer that. When I came round last night I knew everything I was doing. I didn't know how to approach you.. When I saw you in my shirt..and those tiny boxer shorts.." He trailed off, trying not to dwell on that thought for too long. He had things to say.

"I've missed you, ever since I moved back to Baker Street. I miss waking up to hear you singing in the shower. I do notice you. I know you always get up five minutes before your alarm goes off, so you feel like you'll have a better day. I know you always wear a dress in Thursday's because you believe it's a lucky day." He tried to add, Christ knows why to the last one, he was behaving himself.

"I think I love you too Molly." It hung, pregnant in the air, for many, many minutes.

Molly had stopped moving in the bath, silence filled the apartment. Did I just hear that right? Did he say he loved me? She got out of the bath and wrapped a large bath towel around her slight frame and let her hair hang down, curling around her shoulders from the damp air. She opened the door and saw Sherlock leaning once again, against the door frame of her bathroom.

She cleared her throat and began, "I don't think I quite got that last thing". She looked through her eyelashes at his face, his beautiful face looking down lovingly at hers.  
"Miss Hooper, I believe you know exactly what I said. And as I was going to say earlier, before you rather harshly slapped my face," his lips curled at the corners, his hands brushed up her wet arms, he leaned close to her face so he could feel her sweet, warm breath on his chin, "you look beautiful."

Their lips met, tentatively moving against each other, before his tongue traced her lips. Biting back his bottom lip, Molly's arms wrapped around his neck. Pressing her to his body, with ease he hitched her up around his waist and carried her back to the bed, tumbling down together with a chuckle. Unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it from his frame, Molly whispered, "Tell me again." Her lips worked their way round his neck, sucking and biting gently at his marble skin. Feeling the arousal building in his stomach, his arms enveloped her, "I love you Molly." Aware her hands were now unzipping his trousers and pulling them off with his boxers, he pressed against her, "God Molly.. I love you".  
Smiling at his confession, the words on his lips like a prayer, his hands on her hips sinking into her skin. Pulling off her bath towel, they were both now naked on the bed, hands roaming and their kisses telling each other a thousand sonnets. Sherlock's hands were massaging her hair, he pressed against her, eager for them to close the gap between them, hungry for her taste in his mouth.

"Not yet, darling" she whispered in his ear, understanding his body immediately. They looked at each other and smiled, their heavy breathing settling eventually. They climbed under the duvet and held each other close. Sherlock looked into her eyes and saw happiness in them for the first time since he left. They both fell asleep in each others arms, their silence like a lullaby, yet promising passion when they awoke.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you all for your support, it really is inspiring. Please add reviews or comments if you so wish!

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It was mid June and the sun was tickling London feverishly. Smiling to herself from behind her aviators, Molly was pleased with herself for choosing this week annual leave. Sitting at her little wrought-iron coffee table on the patio outside her house soaking up every ray of sunshine that caressed her pale skin, littering it with freckles and blushing it tentatively, Molly felt happier than she had for months.

It had been four weeks since John and Mary's wedding- four weeks since the confession from Sherlock. Smiling to herself reminiscing about that beautiful night, she let her head relax back, and let the summer breeze play with her hair and the hem of her cute, floral skirt. Allowing herself to meditate momentarily, easing away the worries from work, the smile on her face would not leave.

A gentle kiss on her forehead brought Molly back to reality. Fluttering her eyes open from behind her sunglasses, she awoke to Sherlock's face tantalisingly close to her own. She could smell his sweet breath from behind his boyish smile that overtook his eyes as well as his eyes.

"Afternoon" he said, taking a seat next to hers and slipping off his suit jacket.

"Why on earth are you wearing a suit on a day like today?!" She exclaimed, genuinely searching his face for a reasonable explanation and mimicking to her vest top and floaty skirt.

"It was either this or a sheet Molly, and that would hardly be acceptable on the cab ride over here would it?" He smiled, rolling up the sleeves to his white shirt.  
Trying not to dwell on Sherlock naked under a sheet for too long, Molly replied, whilst pouring Sherlock a glass of Pimms and topping her own glass up;

"We'll from what John's told me, wearing only a sheet out in public has never stopped you before." She smirked.

Chuckling together and sipping on their drinks, Molly stole a look at Sherlock's face. She didn't know where they were, not literally of course, but in their...relationship. If that was whatever this was called. Things were moving glacially slow since the night of the wedding. After waking up in the morning, they went about their routine as if he was still living there. Coffee was made, pleasantries were exchanged and Sherlock left whilst Molly took a shower. It hadn't been awkward, nor had it been when he came visiting the next day. Apart from gazing at each other, trying to converse via eye contact, holding hands now and then, or stolen yet chaste kisses in the morgue when John had left the room, their _relationship_ (yes, Molly decided to refer to it as their relationship), nothing had really happened. And they certainly lacked intimacy.  
Becoming more and more frustrated, most likely of the sexual nature, Molly began devising little plans and hatches to try and, well, tempt Sherlock into becoming the hungry, desperate man he was on the night of the wedding. Today for instance, inviting him round late afternoon when the sun was at it's most beautiful, she'd bought a new, rather expensive billowing floral skirt, hiking it up to her thighs, and teaming it up with a white vest, and the most delectable part, no bra. She sat in the sun, turning her face towards the sun and closing her eyes when she saw Sherlock look over at her. Eyeing her up, deducing her, or weighing her up like a predator and his prey.

"New skirt." it was really more of a statement than a question. Though she noticed how he shifted uncomfortably in his seat when she uncrossed her legs and opened them slightly. He coughed a little at made a conscious effort to look only at her face, not the gap between her thighs, nor her pert nipples through the white vest.

She saw his efforts and smiled to herself. _I'm winning_.

"Yeah, can't very well wear my jeans in this beautiful weather can I?" She added; "Why? Do you not like it?" She looked at him and hooked her sunglasses on the top of her head.

Coughing again nervously, he looked at her and met her eyes that twinkled in the sunbeams. "Of course. The length suits your legs."

Sipping again from her glass, she watched as he pulled out a white box and a little, gold accompaniment. He pulled out a cigarette and lit with his Zippo, inhaling deeply, savouring the burning sensation on his tongue and expelling the smoke lovingly. Molly wasn't surprised by his actions. She knew from living with him all those months he often treated himself to a cigarette- though just one- when he was feeling particularly frustrated.

Good. Molly thought, I am getting through to him. If she had more spunk in her, or even just drank a little more, she'd have made her move. Straddling his lap right there on the patio and sinking into his lustful kiss, inhaling his taste. Her mind wandered until she realised something was wrong. They'd been silent for far too long.

She looked over at Sherlock, who was staring at her in some fascination, wildly exploring the contours of her content face.

"Hmm?" She murmured rather too innocently.

Laughing rather deeply and seductively, _or was it the heat?_ Molly thought, he reiterated;

"I'd asked you how your week off was going. Sorry to disturb the rather interesting day dream you were having." He smiled, continuing his cigarette but his eyes never faltering from her body.

"Oh," Molly blushed incandescently, "it's lovely, thank you. The weather has made it all the more wonderful." She replied, annoyed at her lapse in her facade of coolness.

Laughing once more, _what a delightful mood he's in_, he finished his cigarette and sighed, resting his eyes on hers,  
"You look beautiful today." With that, he opened his arms and signalled for her to take a pew on his lap.

Smiling at the glorious invitation, she moved onto his lap, settling into his chest, arms wrapped around his neck as his encircled her waist. Aware that he has not looked anywhere else but her eyes for the past five minutes, Molly felt herself blush again as his caressed the small of her back. It'd only been a couple of days since she last saw him, but this comfortable embrace reminded her of what she was missing.

Leaning towards her, he caught her plump lips with his, snaring her bottom lip and biting gently before beginning a beautiful dance between their lips. Remaining like this for several minutes, eventually introducing his tender tongue to her willing mouth, they pulled apart, eyeing each others every reaction.

"I love you." The words escaped her mouth without her consent. Those three words had not been mentioned since that balmy night after the wedding.

Seeing the horror in her eyes, Sherlock reached up to her face lovingly and moved a strand of hair from her face and pushed it behind her ear, he smiled, the smile telling her not to panic, "I know. I love you too."

A sigh of relief broke Molly's baited breath, before she felt herself lunge towards Sherlock, lips crashing together like tides on a beach. Obviously taken aback by this pleasant surprise, Sherlock swallowed a gasp, and returned her passion by mirroring her urgency. Her hands were in his hair, gently tugging at the black curls and softly clinging his face closer to hers. Their noses brushed together, and their eyes fleetingly met as they opened simultaneously. Feeling the smiles on each others faces, she felt his hands, his big, spider web hands work their way up her back, and eventually, round to her chest, cupping her breasts and massaging her hard nipples under the thin cotton of the vest.

A gasp escaped her lips. About bloody time. She thought to herself, reminding herself to give her future self a pat on the back. Turning towards him and wrapping her legs around his waist and the chair, she grinding against his crotch suggestively. This cause him to break away. Undeterred, Molly continued to kiss the nape of his neck and finger free his shirt buttons. He tasted delicious.

"I've been talking to John," he began, hands making their way to Molly's arse that was rising simpatico to her lips as they traced his jawline. This will be difficult tot get out. He thought to himself. "He's been giving me tips, ideas, that sort of thing, referring to.. Intimacy issues."

He's so cute. Molly thought to herself, knowing full well where he was going with this, partly due to John's phone call earlier, enquiring why Sherlock was asking about sex, and finally giving up and putting it down to one of his 'experiments'. Little do you know John. She constantly thought throughout the conversation. They'd not let on they were, well, together to anyone yet. Sherlock continued;

"I really do love you Molly, I know we said we'd wait but I'm ready." He closed his eyes as she sank her teeth into his throat, sucking gently. "And by the way you're behaving, I can tell you're ready for me.." He said, returning to her kiss, his hand making it's way up her thigh, under her skirt, whilst his other hand held her tight against the small of her back. It was Molly's turn to throw her head back and feel his sharp teeth skim across her cheeks, her jaws and down her neck. Pulling aside her lace knickers, he gently felt her sex, caressing and exploring every millimetre, before swiftly entering her with his slender fingers.

Molly's gasping turned into a subdued moan, which awoke her from her trace. Suddenly she was very aware they were outside, and rather visible from the other apartments, seeing as it was a shared patio. Molly stiffened and froze from seeing the wrinkly old face of Mr Holban, the elderly gentleman that occupied the first floor flat, and who's window, unfortunately looked right onto the couple. _Well he won't be letting me in the building any time soon when I forget my key._ Molly thought. She shrugged it off- this was definitely worth that sacrifice.

"Come on." She said, a coy look in her eyes that signalled trouble to Sherlock. Climbing from off him, she rearranged herself and held a hand out to her lover. Looking sheepish, he took her hand and slowly rose from his chair, jacket in hand covering his now bulging crotch. Biting her lip at the notice of this, she led him upstairs to her flat.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for all your lovely feedback, it certainly inspires me to keep writing! Keep 'em coming boys and girls! Hope you all enjoy reading as much as I do writing them.

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Molly Hooper woke up to the shrill sound of her digital alarm. _Shit, mustn't have turned it off last night._ Scowling under her groggy eyes, her hand woke up and searched to find the damned machine. Hitting it with a bit too much vigour, the silence was welcoming bliss. Smiling to herself at her victory against the alarm, she turned over and flung herself across the bed. Her eyes shot open when her seemingly naked body collided against something hard that seemed to be taking up the majority of her mattress. Discovering that she was now sprawled across Sherlock's also naked body, her eyes shot open and met his, smiling beneath her.

"Good morning Miss Hooper." He said, the corner of his mouth curling under his delicious baritone. Wrapping his arms around her body, engulfing her in his manly cage, he flipped her over so he was now atop her, looking down into her bewildered eyes.

"Hi." Ashamed of all that she could think about was Sherlock's lips now tracing her neck and pinning her hands above her head, Hi, was about all she could muster. Although the pair were still exhausted from the previous night, feeling his growing hardness against her thigh was the perfect wake up call for a Saturday morning.

Kissing her mouth deeply, Sherlock couldn't help but smile at the whimper that left Molly's lips when he slipped his length inside her, slowly filling her. Hips moving together slowing, their lips didn't leave each other until they broke together, trembling in the wake. Slumping onto his back, Sherlock pulled Molly to his chest and held her tightly, his fingers tracing the dew on her spine as her fingers knotted into his damp curls that fell around his satisfied face.

Breathing heavily, Molly found the strength to reply;

"Good morning to you, Mr Holmes."

* * *

Molly decided to leave Sherlock in her bed, since he dropped back off to sleep after their morning glory. Probably the most he slept in Christ knows how long. She indulged herself with a long shower, using all the products she could find. Long lost christmas presents, the new sponge she bought last week, even the expensive shampoo Sherlock bought her las Christmas. She hummed to herself as the hot water lavished the soap on her skin, and saturated her hair with moisture.

She got out the shower and wrapped a clean bath towel around her body, wringing out her hair and letting it hang down her shoulders. She paused for a moment, listening intently to see if Sherlock had stirred. Silence. Going back to the mirror, she continued her grooming and applied a rich cream to her face, continuing to hum to herself. Sherlock and I are together. We've slept together. He's told me he loves me. We're together. Molly smiled at the precious thoughts going round her head. She looked in the mirror and played with her hair, holding it up in different styles, debating a new look until she saw his face in the mirror. Stood behind her, the bed sheet wrapped around his waist, head cocked, looking at her stunning face. They didn't have to say anything, their eyes doing that for them. He came behind her and wrapped his arms around her. Looking at each other in the mirror, his head resting down on her shoulder.

"Think I could get used to this you know" Molly said, looking longingly at his lips.

"Get used to what?" He nipped at her shoulder with his sharp, white teeth.  
"Well, it's nice waking up with you." Biting her lip as snapshots of this morning flew across her eyes.

"Yes well, I do rather enjoy that too. You're doing a good job Molly, making me show feelings." The mocking tone in his voice made her chuckle.

"I've got to go back to Baker Street. Lestrade has text me the details of a case and John is ringing me feverently. Probably wondering why I didn't come home last night." Picking up the spare toothbrush he kept at Molly's flat, pushing away the wonder why she had kept his toothbrush he left when he moved out.

"Do you have to? Mary will be with him, she moved in before the wedding." Molly sat on the sink and wrapped her legs around his waist, tugging the sheet off from around his waist.  
Unable to ignore Molly's legs wrapped around his now naked body, Sherlock threw down his toothbrush and leaned down to her.

"Do you have to be so deliciously teasing when I have something else to attend to." He slipped off her bath towel and lifted her up against him, his strong hands cupping her soft arse. Dragging her nails down his back, pleased at the shivers he emitted as she did, she kissed his chastely;

"Can't I persuade you to stay Mr Holmes?" Her eyelashes tickled his cheekbones.

"I'm sure I can think of something Miss Hooper.."

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Aware that at least a few hours had passed, Molly re-awoke in her bed around midday. Feeling wonderfully delicate, she noticed the familiar scrawl on the back of an envelope propped up against the lamp beside her bed.

"Gone to the case, didn't want to wake you. Will text you later -SH". Holding the note to her lips, Molly finally got up and went about her day.

A little after 4pm, Molly's phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. She had just finished cleaning her apartment and had settled on the sofa with a cup of tea. Jumping up to its exciting vibration, she rushed to it, knowing full well who was texting her.

"Incredibly dull case, over in an hour. Dinner? -SH"

Smiling like a naughty school girl, she replied back immediately.

"Of course. Mine or yours? Or out is an option -M x"

Debating how long it would take for him to reply, she was cut off again by the buzzing. They fell into a rapid conversation.

"The lovebirds are out, Mrs Husdon's visiting sister. Baker Street it is -SH"

"Have you told John about us? -M x"

Molly decided now was the time to broach the question about telling John about their coupling, seeings as she'd either chicken out or get too distracted to later. There was a definite pause before Sherlock's reply;

"No. Lets discuss it later. Currently thinking about how your lips are coping? -SH"

Puzzling over what discussion needed to be had about telling John, her tongue traced over her tender, swelled lips, their copper taste reminder her of the rather hungry bite Sherlock took in the bathroom this morning. Feeling aroused at the memory, Molly replied back. _Two can play at this game, she thought._

"They're missing yours. They're also debating whether or not to wear underwear later -M x"

Again, there was a noticeable pause between hitting send and getting a reply.

"I wouldn't if I were you Miss Hooper. Come round at 7, I do hope you're hungry. -SH"

Smiling to herself, Molly left it at that and finished her tea. Deciding already what to wear tonight.


	6. Chapter 6

Currently working on a couple of new chapters. Will follow as soon as I can guys. Enjoy.

* * *

Arriving promptly at 7pm, Molly couldn't quite believe that she'd gone through with her saucy plan. Letting herself into the building, but knocking on 221B's door, she fidgeted with the long beige mac that concealed her naked body. Sherlock opened the door, an oven mitt covering his left hand, his cheeks flustered with stress that accompanied him with cooking. He looked at her up and down, deducing her choice of being heels and matching being mac, deciding that she had either a short dress on beneath, or...

Molly stepped in and shut the door behind her, watching as Sherlock's face changed from confusing to bewilderment as she untied the coat and dropped it to the floor, revealing her waiting, naked body. Tossing aside the oven mitt, Sherlock decided his attempt at Shepherd's pie, can wait, but his stunning pathologist can most certainly not wait. Scooping her up in one swift movement, they headed straight for his bedroom.

* * *

An hour later, they lay adjacent to each other, calming their hearts and collecting their breaths. After a length of silence, Molly thought she'd best speak up before she fell asleep.

"Let's tell John." She whispered, surprised at herself for managing not to stutter.

After thinking about it for some time, he replied accordingly.

"I don't know. Telling him might change things, between us. Telling people might put pressure on us and.. I don't know if I could manage with that yet. I've learnt so much about this sort of relationship over the last few weeks but.. I'm just not ready yet." He looked into her eyes seeking approval, his look sincere.

"Of course sweetheart, I understand." She did understand, and the last thing she wanted right now was to push Sherlock away. "Do you not think he may have already caught on though?"

Looking puzzled Sherlock replied;

"No I don't believe so. I'm careful what I say."

"But you told me yesterday when you came round, that you asked him for advice. Y'know.." She trailed off, blushing furiously, "personal, advice."

"For an experiment." Sherlock reasoned. "But Molly, can I just argue that we are both naked, in my bed, talking about John." He pulled her in close for a kiss. She giggled and bit her lip, tentatively though.

The smell of burning filled their nostrils as they both realised simultaneously that the Shepard's pie was still in the oven. Springing out of bed, Sherlock ran naked to the kitchen, just saving the oven in time before it set alight. Sherlock threw the ruined dinner in the sink and joined in the laughter he could hear from his bedroom. Hands on is bare hips, it took several minutes for the laughter to die down. And the cough from behind him to stand Sherlock to attention.

"Well this is awkward."

John's voice echoed through Sherlock's head like a warning bell. Suddenly aware he was very much naked, Sherlock ran to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

"John!" Whispered Sherlock to Molly, frantically pulling on his trousers. "Hide in here Molly!" He threw on his shirt, attempting to button it up straight and failing.

"Sorry John! In the middle of an experiment!" He shouted, finally getting his shirt buttoned correctly. He noticed Molly pulling on one of his shirts and looked at her, questioningly. "I don't think so Miss Hooper," he pulled the shirt from her, "you're staying right here while I get rid of him. Stay naked, I'll make it up to you." Pecking her lips quickly, he left the room, closing the door delicately behind him.

John looked at his friend, trying to think of the last time he saw Sherlock look so dishevelled. He thought. Never.

"Erm, Sherlock am I interrupting something?" Motioning to the smoking oven.

"Experiment John. Why are you here?" He leant on the table, trying to be nonchalant and seemingly fooling his blogger.

"Mary forgot her coat so I've nipped back to get it." He had a coat in hand, but it was certainly not Mary's. The beige coat hung in John's hand like a dirt secret. Before Sherlock could protest, and before he could decide it was probably in his benefit not to protest. Sherlock watched John leave.

Taking a deep breath, he headed back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him and throwing himself down onto the bed next to Molly, his head in his hands.

"What's up sweetheart?" Molly looked concerned as she held his hands away from his face, kissing his palms.

"I think John and Mary are going to have an argument later." He said, smirking.

"Mm?" She murmured, unbuttoning his shirt once more. "Why's that?"

"Because my dear," he helped her slip off his trousers and climbed under the duvet, joining Molly's warm body. "John has just taken your coat to Mary, believing it was hers."

Molly stopped kissing his chest and looked at him, concern filling her eyes.

"What?! Sherlock! Why didn't you stop him?! What am I going to go home in now?!" She straddled Sherlock and hit his chest whilst he laughed at her meek strength.

"You're going nowhere." He caught her hands and looked in her eyes. "Stay here with me. For the night. We'll sort your apparent nakedness in the morning. Assumingly, along with the aftermath of John and Mary's first marital blow up." He sat up and kissed her, feeling her infectious smile on his lips.

"Ok, but seeings as they'll be back, probably any minute, it looks like we're trapped in your bedroom for the night." They kissed more passionately, her hands in his hair and his hands cupping her face.

"Mm." He murmured, approvingly.

"And I have no clothes to my name."

"Mm."

"So what do you suggest we do?" She broke away to look at him. His reply was spoken with actions.


	7. Chapter 7

Hi everyone! Sorry it's been a while since an update, I'll try and publish some more when I can! Thankyou to everyone who's left reviews or followed/favourited this story, its such a lovely feeling knowing people enjoy this stuff! More chapters to come x

* * *

"Molly," She could feel Sherlock's warm breath on her neck, and his lo fingers poking her ribs.

"Molly! Wake up, Molly."

Half asleep, Molly's conscious told her something was wrong, and that it was very, very early. Stirring herself lazily awake, she flickered open her left eye to peek at Sherlock. She opened her other eye and sat up whether saw Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed, fully clothed and holding her coat. _Oh shit._ He regrets it. He's breaking up with you. Shaking away the ferocious voice in her head, she questioned;

"Sherlock.. Why are you up? What's wrong?" Aware that she was as naked as a baby, she pulled up the bed sheet to cover her bare breasts. Spying the alarm clock by his bed, she saw it was only just 5am. Looks back into his eyes with obvious concern, he replied.

"Mary and John came home around 10pm, as I deducted, their row was somewhat blazing and Mary has left. Knowing John, he hasn't had a settled night and will awake and make coffee in approximately fifteen minutes."

He finished by thrusting the coat at her chest and standing up, adgitated to an immense degree.

"So you want me to leave." Feeling more angry than upset, Molly pulled on her coat rather violently and began searching for her shoes around the room. He was looking out the window, he hands pulling his lovely curls.

"I'm not ready to tell him about you, about us. I'm still processing what_this_ is." He voice was deepening but becoming louder and distraught.

Slamming herself down on the bed to pull on her shoes, Molly remained silent.

"Molly please understand, it will take a while for me to learn this sort of thing. Please?" He now was in front of her, kneeling in front of her and putting on her shoes, as it seemed Molly was far too angry to. After both shoes were on her feet, he cupped her face in his hands and stared intently into her chocolate eyes.

"Please, darling." His eyes were pleading, his voice was begging. Feeling a surge of power Molly responded;

"No, Sherlock."

With that, she left Sherlock somewhat speechless, kneeling where she'd sat, with the most wonderful look of confusion on his face.

_He'll come after me. He will._ Molly strode down the street, looking feverantly for a cab but having no such luck. She hugged her arms to her body. I _did not think this through._ Cursing herself, she kept glancing back, expecting to see her Sherlock in his billowing coat running after her, ready to scoop her up and apologise, hail a cab immediately and take her home for some well deserved make-up sex. _No_. This was the real world. Marching to the sound of London waking up, Molly Hooper couldn't help but think, what the _fuck_ has she done.

Arriving home after having taken to tube instead of being patient and waiting for a cabbie, she threw her keys down on the phone table hard enough to scare Toby from his hiding place. She paused and sighed, feeling the upset begin to wash over her. She noticed after a few moments the red light flashing on her answer phone. Wondering who may have called her last night, she tentatively pressed play.

_"Hi Molls, it's Greg. Uhm, Lestrade. Look I know you've probably got a lot on, but er, was wondering if you wanted to meet for a drink next week. For a er, chat or whatever. Alright, er, give us a call yeah? See ya. Alright bye."_

Smiling at his apparent nervousness in his voice in the message, she thought about Greg. They'd been relatively good friends over the years, never had gone out much, but texted now and then. She did think he was a bit of a silver fox, this time a few weeks ago she'd probably have gone out on a date with him. But now, Sherlock clouded every thought. Making a mental note to call him to politely decline later, Molly headed for a nice hot bath.

* * *

Molly tucked into her bacon sandwich and turned on crap Saturday morning TV. Flicking through the channels, she heard her phone buzz on the kitchen counter. Debating momentarily whether or not to get it, she sighed at herself and stood. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw it was from Sherlock.

_I don't know what to say. -SH_

She warred with herself whether or not to text back. "Good god woman, you saw him 3hours ago stop thinking you miss him!" She said aloud to herself. She hit reply;

_I'm sorry for walking out Sherlock. -Mx_

Like always, the response was immediate.

_Can I come round? -SH_

Her response needed to thought whatsoever.

_Yes sweetheart. -Mx_

Knowing he'd probably be here in around fifteen minutes, Molly scoffed down the rest of her bacon buttie and hurriedly straightened up the living room. Catching herself in the reflection of the TV, she strode to her bedroom. She made the bed and straightened up, well, threw her dirty clothes into the washing basket. She brushed her hair through and swapped her owl pjama's for some tight jeans and a black T-shirt. Very casual. Deciding to be thorough, she brushed the coffee breath from her teeth and cleaned the soap suds from the bath. Nodding at herself, she returned to the TV and sat waiting, fidgeting with her nails.

An hour passed.

Molly was pacing now. Checking her phone every 3 minutes, and a sick feeling started to take over her stomach.

_Where are you? -Mx_

No reply.

Another hour passed.

_Sherlock I'm worried now. Text me. -Mx_

_Everything_ was running through her mind. Cab accident, falling down the stairs, tripping over his scarf.. But one word kept creeping into her thoughts. _Moriarty_.

_He's not dead. He's alive and has found Sherlock and.. God knows what's happened to him._

Grabbing her coat, she tore down the stairs of her flat and out the door to the street. Hailing a cab effectively, she ordered him to go straight to Baker Street.

Panting slightly, Molly banged on the door a little harder than she'd intended.

_No answer. _

She knocked again, concern was welling in her eyes.

"Molly, dear? Can I help you love?" The chirpy voice came from the foot of the stairs.

"Mrs Hudson! How're you? How's the hip?" Putting on her smiling facade, Molly addressed Mrs Hudson.

"Fine love, just fine. Are you looking for the boys?"

"Yes, er, Sherlock told me to come round.. For an experiment." Molly was a terrible liar, always had been, but she seemed to pull the wool over the land lady's eyes.

Mrs Hudson chuckled; "They left about an hour or so ago, that lovely detective called them with a case. Oh I do love it when Sherlock has that glint in his eye!"

Stood frozen to the core, Molly felt numb. "Glint?"

"Yes love! That lovely twinkle in his eye when he's got a case! Yo can tell he's truly happy, truly in his element!" Heading back to her flat laughing, Molly clenched her jaw a bit too tightly. _Right_. She thought to herself, _that's it. Sod him, he's buggered this up now._

Molly marched home, feeling an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. She got home eventually and picked up her mobile.

_Enjoy the case Sherlock. Call me when you've stopped being a selfish bastard. -M_


	8. Chapter 8

Hi guys, here's the next chapter! Not convinced its my strongest one, but it's a good filler for what I have planned. Thanks again to the new follows and reviews, it really is lovely.

* * *

"I'd be lying if I said I thought you'd never give me a ring, Molly." Sat across the dimly lit table beyond her third glass of Merlot, looking desperately at her eyes, was Greg Lestrade.

It'd been two days since she text Sherlock, calling him a selfish bastard, and she was yet to get a reply. She knew they were still on a case, up in Glasgow, as a matter of fact, because Mary had called her last night asking if she wanted to meet up for drinks.

"Sorry Mary.. I've sort of got a date."

"What! Molly tell, tell, tell! Now!" Mary had practically screamed down the receiver.

Now here she was, feeling a headache come on from the wine, dressed in her classic black dress she wore to that Christmas party last year, sat trying to feel some sort of spark between her and the detective. _Nada_. She couldn't get him out of her mind. _How could she_? She found her mind wandering off thinking about his glorious hands, and how they moved across every inch of her body. How his mouth, his peachy lips traced every curve of her neck, her breasts..

"Molly?" Lestrades voice pulled her kicking and screaming from her thoughts. Realising she'd become quite hot under the collar, her hand made to way to touch her lips, she quickly decided to shake herself out of it, before Greg got ideas.

"Sorry, sorry. Miles away.." She cleared her coat and accidentally met Lestrades eyes;

"Erm, work, it getting..heavy. Can't keep my mind off it!" She laughed nervously, pleading that he'd accept the lie.

Clearly, he didn't. Running his hand across his shaven chin, he started, with a gentle smile on his face.

"Molly.. He won't love you back. He never will. Any chance you may think you've got with him.. You don't. Please don't think i'm being cruel, or insensitive, but, Molls.." He took her hands which now rested on the table before him.

"It's never gonna happen."

His words resonated with her, hitting home hard. What if all this.. That she had with Sherlock, the past few weeks, the '_I love you's"_, the cuddles.. What if it was just.. An experiment? She felt a wave of nausea come over her. Sensing this, Lestrade left her hands and waved the waitress over for the bill.

They stood at the cloakroom having paid, and Lestrade was busy giving the tickets I the attendant for their coats. Molly, still feeling morbid and somewhat sick, stood looking aimlessly out of the large window of the restaurant that opened onto Covent Garden. Not really focusing on anything, Molly's attention was all of a sudden brought to the figure of a tall man, looking in, directly at her. His was tall and slim, a long black goat and a blue scarf. A head of dark, luxurious curls. Meeting his blue eyes momentarily, Molly froze. They stood staring at each other. As she raised her hand, she felt her coat being placed over her shoulders. He has a good knack at pulling my attention astray. Molly thought, breaking the gaze from her lover and turned to face Greg.

"What you looking at Molls?" He said, smiling and fixing her collar.

"Oh I thought I saw er, Mary, outside. It wasn't." She added chirping somewhat.  
Turning back to the window, Sherlock was gone.

As they left the restaurant, Greg being the perfect gentlemen and opening the doors for her, Molly slipped her hand into her coat pocket and slipped our her phone. Making sure Lestrade didn't notice, she opened the message waiting for her

_I'm waiting in your flat. Do hurry up. -SH_

Molly didn't know how to feel. Excited? Yes, most certainly. But the feeling of angry was still there. He still left her for a case and didn't tell her. They didn't part amicably either. Walking to the taxi bank, the phone buzzed again.

_You look beautiful tonight -SH_

Damn him, she thought. She turned towards Lestrade, putting on a brave face.

"Greg, it's been a lovely evening. Thankyou so much, it's always great to hang out with such a good friend." She dropped the 'F' bomb. His face responded accordingly.

"I'm really tired and I have an early start. Thankyou thought." She kissed his cheek to. E on the safe side, and got into the taxi rowing him an empathetic smile.

"See you, Molls."

* * *

She was stood outside her own flat door, hand resting on the handle. She had no idea what was about to happen. Standing there for minutes, she was about to open the door before it was thrust open before her. Ahead of her stood Sherlock Holmes, dressed in his typical well fitting suit, with a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned to the nape. They stood looking at each other, Molly furiously gazing at him through her eyelashes. His mouth began to open to speak, but she stopped it.

"Don't. Don't say a word." She said it with a bit more venom than she expected. None the less, she threw herself at him, throwing her arms round his neck and jumping into his waiting arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he held her steady with one hand, whilst shutting the door with the other.

Their lips were ferocious against each other, hungry and desperate for the few days they'd missed each other. Molly made quick work of discarding her coat and his own suit jacket.

Breathlessly, he carried her to the bedroom, whilst skilfully unzipping her dress and pulling the spaghetti straps from her shoulders. Their lips never parted until they fell on the bed and a deep chuckle escaped both their throats. Looking into each others eyes for the first time since they met at the door, nothing was funny anymore.

The rest of their clothes left their bodies in a haze, before Molly knew it, they were lying naked and panting on her bed. But, something had changed. They held each other as their heartbeats rested back to normal. They dipped under the duvet, Sherlock immediately enveloped Molly in his arms into a comfortable spooning position. His lips brushed her ear as he whispered;

"Molly, why were you with Lestrade?" He was kissing her neck and pressing himself into her, it was very distracting.

"Because I was trying to get your attention." Her body moved against his as she replied.

"Consider my attention gained Miss Hooper."

"You left me Sherlock. You left for a case and didn't even so much as text me for days." He stopped his kisses and her eyes open. He was silenced, so Molly continued.

"I was so worried Sherlock.. I thought.." Tears were welling in her eyes, she hurried her head in she pillow so he couldn't see her. He hugged her tighter to his body, soothing her and caressing her hair.

"Molly please.. Love please, don't cry." He tried to calm her but the tears were flowing fast now.

"Explain yourself then Sherlock please! For the love of God.. Explain.." Chocking back her sobs, Molly couldn't help the shocks rock her body.

"Molly I've told you before this sort of thing is new to me.. I don't really know how to behave myself. I didn't see the texts from you until the next morning, we were busy with the case and I got carried away.. Molly forgive me, I know now. I know what to do."

Molly's sobs subsided, she felt like she heard genuine sorrow in his voice. He had changed these past few weeks, and grown up somewhat. Maybe she was giving him too hard of a time.

"You'd better make it up to me Mr Holmes. I'm expecting great things from you." She said, the tears on her face now dry and the kissing on her neck resuming. Sighing with satisfaction, and the anxiety now leaving her conscience, Molly fell asleep to Sherlock's breath in her neck.

* * *

Morning came around and they had appropriately reaffirmed their relationship for at least two hours. Leaving their post coital bliss, Molly hopped into the shower just before there was a knock at the door.

A musical, whimsical knock, slight pressure on the knuckles. Sherlock began deducing immediately. Debating getting up to answer it, but curiosity getting the better of him, Sherlock pulled the warm bed sheet around his waist and moved towards the door. Molly must have slowed my brain, he thought. He knew exactly who was at the other side of the door, yet he neglected to listen to his mind and answered it anyway.

"Mol-" John's voice trailed off as his wide eyes looked Sherlock up and down, a million questions attempted to come out of his mouth at once.

"Ah, John. I think you'd better come in."


	9. Chapter 9

Hello everyone. First of all, thankyou all for all the follows and comments they're very appreciated. Secondly, I do apologise for the huge amount of time between the last chapter and this, a lot of stuff has been going on and I've been really busy! I have this chapter and the skeleton for a couple more in progress, but here's the first bit to apologise for being ages! Comments are welcome if you want to criticise or anything! If anyone has any ideas of what they'd like to happen I'll see what I can do! ;D

hope you're all well x

* * *

As Molly stood under the hot shower, running her hands over her body, through her hair and lavishing herself with soaps and shampoo, no matter how hard she tried, she could not remove the huge grin that covered her face. She was more than relieved that she'd make up with Sherlock. _What did we even fall out over in the first place?_ Deciding to skip over this thought, Molly lost herself in picturing his beautiful hands and their many talents. Feeling beautiful in every way, Molly hit off the shower. Sighing with happiness and wrapping a bath towel around herself, she was wringing her hair as she walked towards the living room. Molly was so caught up in herself, she'd neglected to hear the raised voices coming from the hallway.

"Sherlock why on earth didn't you join me in the shower?" Her last word left her lips as a whisper as she saw John Watson successfully holding a half naked Sherlock in a head lock.

"Molly! Help me!" His face was going a stunning shade of crimson.

"John! Get off him!" She shrieked, arms flailing wildly. Like kids in the playground, John looked scorned and let Sherlock loose, as they straightened themselves, Sherlock skilfully adjusting his sheet. Molly's eyes caught his. _Be brave, Sherlock. Now's the time._ John looked between them, arms folded and eyes expecting.

"Well?" He said, eyebrows raised.

"John, come and sit down.." Sherlock started, despite Johns shaking head.

"No. No. Tell me. Now." He stood still, teeth clenching. "What the fuck, is this."

Molly moved next to Sherlock and he slid his arm around her waist. Molly was hoping this would be enough to explain to John, but Sherlock began nonetheless;

"John, for a good few months now, Molly and I have decided to embark on a relationship." He said it with ease and calmness. Moly would be lying if she said she didn't turned on by how his words rolled off his tongue. No sooner did Sherlock finish the sentence did John sharply reply;

"And why didn't you tell me Sherlock." He continued his defensive stance.

"We didn't want the pressure John." Molly replied to this after reading the look of confusion on Sherlock's face.

"What on earth does it have to do with you if I told you or not?" Sherlock smirked, but confusion did not leave his face.

"Because we are friends Sherlock!" John was shouting now, his arms leaving his body gesticulatory, his feet stomping.

"We are FRIENDS! You were best man at my wedding! Fuck me, it's all becoming clear now. I should of fucking knew when that coat turned up in the apartment!" John really was shouting now, and Molly slunk into Sherlock's arms as they wrapped around her protectively.

"John, calm down." Sherlock was calm, why was he over reacting so much? Sherlock reached a hand out to him.

"Don't come near me. I cannot look at you right now." With that, John left, slamming the door behind him.

As Sherlock and Molly stood in their in silent embrace for some moments, reeling through the last few minutes. They got into bed without saying a word, spooning comfortably. Neither one slept that night, but neither one said a word.


	10. Chapter 10

Here we go! Your reviews make my day, thank you so much x

* * *

The cold, grey morning reered its ugly head and Molly awoke with a sinking feeling inn her stomach. Rolling onto her side, she stroked the pillow that Sherlock's head rested on. Still warm. She could hear the shower on in the next room and felt slightly better. As she sat up and rubbed her eyes, the events of last night kept shining through. Molly sighed and shut her eyes. She had no idea how today would go.

Sherlock walked out of the bathroom into her room, stark naked but towelling his tousled, damp hair. Molly hadn't noticed him come in, she still sat there, head in her hands.

"Molly are you alright?" He climbed back into bed next to her and nestled up to her. She held him close and breathed deeply.

"No. We need to see John sweetheart. I'm worried about him." No need to sugar coat it. She brought her hands up to stroke his hair and face like a mother would soothe her child. The worry was starting to come through his own voice.

"Let's go round tonight then." Molly smiled and touched her lips to his forehead.

"Thankyou."

They stayed in bed for a few hours, barely moving from the comfortable cuddle they got themselves in. Molly was on a late shift today, she would be at St Barts for one, there was no rush to get up.

* * *

Molly put on her grey tailored suit, though she felt a little uncomfortable with the length, but was running late so she just accepted it. Smoothing it down, she left in a hurry, running for a cab instead of catching the tube. Sherlock left an hour ago, claiming he needed a case, though still worried, she hoped he hadn't gone to see John without her.

The day went painfully slowly, though even only eight hours long, Molly felt every minute. Everything she did, she did monotonously, too distracted by the prospect of tonight. Se knew how much John meant to Sherlock, would she really be the girl that got between them? Would it come down to a choice for Sherlock, between her and John? And if it did, who's to say he'd pick her.. Mousy Molly, easily manipulated, and a sucker for her consulting detective.

Nine o'clock came round after what seemed like an eternity, and Molly was miserable. She realised she'd barely said a word to anyone at work, not even cracked a smile when her colleague brought her a cup of tea. And every step she took brought her closer to whatever horrific event that would happen tonight.

She opened the door and the smell of cooking brought her back from her daydream into reality. As she shut the door behind her, her eyebrows raised to question the dim light coming from the end of the corridor. She put down her bag and slipped off her shoes and jacket, and walked towards the living room.  
Her eyes widened when she saw the room had been filled with candles, all lit to provide a beautiful atmosphere. A sultry woman's voice came from her the CD player, and her tiny dining room table was set, with a rather large bunch of roses decorating it. She peered round the door into the kitchen, and to her amusement, she saw her rather adorable boyfriend looking like a wild animal running around the kitchen in an apron bearing the words, "kiss the cook".

"Sherlock.." She stood looking helpless at him. He looked up at her and smiled beamingly.

"I'm glad you're home, go sit down I'll be out in a minute." He ushered her out of the room and sat her down, placing a tender kiss behind her ear. Not more than a minute later, he returned with two plates of something that resembled a paella.

"Sherlock what is all this?!" She couldn't keep the excitement out of her voice.

"I wanted to cheer you up before we go to Johns in an hour. I know you're worried, you took an extra twelve minutes to get home suggesting you walked instead of taking the tube." He tucked into his dinner as he deduced, leaving Molly gaping at him.

"Thankyou, it's beautiful. But, you do have some sauce on your shirt," she picked up her cutlery and pointed towards the collar of his delectable white shirt.

They made small chit chat whilst having dinner, which didn't take Molly long to finish, she hasn't eaten anything today and was ravenous.

"Right, I'll put these in the dishwasher, you go out on a clean shirt and we'll get off to Johns then. Go on, off you pop." She collected their plates and stood up. As she walked past him, she felt his arms catch her waist and pull her onto his lap, causing her to nearly drop her plates.

"Don't you want to kiss the cook first?" A mischievous grin spread across his face as they went in for a deep kiss. Parting and feeling their smiles on their faces, Molly proceeded to stand up and walk to the kitchen, making an effort to wiggle her hips as she walked as she could feel Sherlock's eyes burn into her back.

She was just wiping the surfaces and finishing up in the kitchen when she felt sherlock behind her.

"Hi honey" she smiled, continuing to wipe the surface, but pushing her arse into his crotch gently. She heard a loud breath leave his lips.  
Leaning over her and breathing in her ear, Sherlock's hands rested on her hips, holding her against him.

"You know we haven't had any dessert.." His deep velvet voice sent shivers down her spine. Goosebumps rising over her whole body as his lips caressed her neck, and his fingers sneak down to the hem of her skirt.

"Bit short, this skirt Miss Hooper." Giving into him completely, only a mumble could answer him.

She moaned as she felt his perfect teeth sink into her neck, his fingers making quick work of her blouse buttons. He slipped off her blouse and tugged off her bra, his hands becoming hungry for the feel of her hard tits beneath his. Molly continued to press her arse into his crotch, which we becoming increasingly tighter over his hardness. She turned her head to meet his lips, as they crashed together immediately. His hands were on hers, he slammed them onto the kitchen counter, his leg pushing apart her own.

"Stay like that Miss Hooper." She moaned at his growl as she felt his hands pull her skirt up around her waist. She chuckled, now she can surprise him. She heard his sharp intake of breath.

"Molly.. Are those stockings and suspenders?" His hands ran over the backs of her thighs, fingering the lace atop the stockings, and slapping the elastic stockings against her skin.

"Just for you Sherlock." She smiled and shut her eyes, secretly begging to be taken right then and there. Thankfully, Sherlock had the same idea.

"My god Molly."

There was desperation in his voice now. Kissing her shoulders, he made hard work of his hands, one gently massaging her breast, the other made its way down the front of her black lace knickers, doing dirty things to make her writhe. She couldn't take any more,

"Sherlock, stop arseing around, just fuck me" she was unashamed of her pleading.

"Oh Miss Hooper, with pleasure."

He furiously ripped her knickers and unzipped himself, pulling out his impressive cock and wasting no time pushing into her. A shriek left her lips, and she sprawled across the counter top, grinding her hips against his in unison.

They were too wrapped up in each other to hear Sherlock's phone ring, but as they blissfully collapsed together, panting and sweating, it went off again. Molly reached behind her and fumbled the vibrating body out of his pocket.

Blocked

Molly answered, too happy to care who was on the other side.

"Hello this is the phone of a very sexy bastard called Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock felt her stiffen beneath him. He pulled himself off her and zipped himself up, trying to read her face which was becoming increasingly concerned. She stood up, pulling down her skirt and fumbling to pull on her blouse.

"We'll be right there, thank you."

Se snapped the phone shut and tried to put on her blouse,tears now rolling tack and fast down her cheeks. Sherlock grabbed her wrists and took the blouse off her.

"Molly what is it, tell me." He rolled the blouse over her head and pulled her in close.

Hearing his heart beat furiously against her ear, her tears not residing. She pulled away and locked her eyes onto his.

"Sherlock it's John." Her voice breaking, "we need to go to the hospital there's. been an accident."

* * *

well there ya go! Tired to get a bit of continuity, have read through my previous chapters and I decided to write about the counter top as in the first chapter, that's sort of their first romantic encounter. Thought I'd chuck a little twist in the bag too! More to come, but please be patient x


	11. Chapter 11

Hi guys. Didn't get a lot of feedback from my last chapter so am a bit worried it was a little on the crap side! I do apologise, I really do. This is my final chapter lovelies, I hope it doesn't disappoint too much, try and enjoy!

* * *

"We'll be right there, thank you."

Se snapped the phone shut and tried to put on her blouse,tears now rolling tack and fast down her cheeks. Sherlock grabbed her wrists and took the blouse off her.

"Molly what is it, tell me." He rolled the blouse over her head and pulled her in close.

Hearing his heart beat furiously against her ear, her tears not residing. She pulled away and locked her eyes onto his.

"Sherlock it's John." Her voice breaking, "we need to go to the hospital. There's been an accident."

* * *

Sherlock steadied himself on the counter. _We need to go to the hospital there's been an accident_. The words swirled around his head, Molly's voice echoing. He was vaguely aware of Molly spinning around the kitchen, re-dressing herself and grabbing his shoes and coat.

Clearing his throat, though his words still coming out in croaks, Sherlock attempted to compose himself.

"What happened?" His voice seemed almost shy.

"Not now Sherlock! Just get your bloody coat on!" Molly didn't mean to, but it came out in a yell, and for the first time since they met, she made Sherlock flinch. Slapping her hand to her mouth after realising what she'd done from his reaction, she began;

"Sherlock I'm sorry for shouting. Get your coat, we need to go." He nodded obligingly and they left Molly's flat.

* * *

No words were spoken in the cab ride to the hospital. Molly tried not to worry when she reached across the seat for Sherlock's hand and he pulled away at her touch, turning his face to look rather forlornly out the window.

Sherlock shot out of the taxi, leaving Molly to pay and attempt to catch up with him. He strode without so much as a backwards glance towards the A&E desk.

"John Watson. Where is he. Tell me NOW." Sherlock was barking, barely giving the young receptionist a chance to respond.

"Sherlock calm down." Molly touched his arm, which retracted fiercely under her touch. He eyes glared at her.

"Get. Off. Me. Now." He spat at her. She could've sworn she saw hatred in his eyes, and she hoped he could see the pain in hers.

After the terrified young girl pointed to his room, Sherlock once again marched away, leaving Molly gazing after him, trying to subside her ominous tears.  
Molly reached the room after a few minutes and peered through the window. She saw Sherlock sat on a chair next to John's unconscious body. Sherlock's hand was next to his, not touching, but close enough. His face was expressionless, much like Johns. She thought it best to leave them be for a few minutes, so headed down to the cafeteria.

She'd hated hospitals. Rich, coming from someone who worked in one. But the dead were already dead, not dying. It reminded her much of her dad, who spent the last few months of her life struggling with cancer. She felt the tears prick her eyes again. She walked into the cafeteria, which was largely empty due to the time of night, apart from a solemn looking woman, pasty and tired looking, sat in the corner with a coffee and an untouched muffin.

_Mary_.

Molly walked up to her and sat down opposite. Mary barely noticed before Molly spoke;

"Mary what happened?"

Her eyes were so filled with sadness, she looked up silently and pleaded into Molly's eyes. It wasn't long before her words were choked with sobs that rocked her body;

"Oh Molly.. He found out about you two didn't he." Molly immediately blushed and guilt swept over her. She held Mary's hands in her own.

"I was watching him outside get out the cab over the road. He didn't look when he got out, a bus came by and just got him. I watched it happen Molly.. I'll never forget it!" She was barely audible now. Molly scooted to the chair next to her, wrapping her arms around Mary protectively, as she did with Sherlock many a time.

Half an hour passed before Mary's sobbing subsided. Molly wiped her face and tidied her up before walking her back to John's bed. She sat in the chair sherlock was sat in not half an hour ago, resting her head on John's hand. Feeling déjà vu again, Molly decided to leave the couple alone.

For forty minutes Molly sat on the uncomfortable chairs that lined the A&E hallway. Glancing at her watch every three minutes, she realised time was going far too slowly. At two am, she got up and left.

Heading towards the exit, Molly let loose. Tears cascaded down her face, lining it with black stripes. The exit doors opened and the cold air hitting her face made her gasp and open her eyes. There he stood. His back facing her, his collar up and a cigarette half smoked in his leather gloved hand. Sucking in a deep breath, Molly. Swallowed her pride and approached him. She placed a hand on his shoulder. Worry creased her for the moment he stiffened under her touch, but he soon relaxed, wrapping his arm around her. She snuggled into his arm and held him momentarily, before taking the cigarette out of his fingers and bringing it to her lips, inhaling slowly.

His eyebrow cocked at her.

"What? I quit a year before you met me." She admitted, relishing the taste in her mouth.

He grabbed her and held her tightly, knocking the butt out of her hand and completely taking her off guard.

They stood their for what seemed like a century, moving only once when Sherlock enveloped her in his coat when she began to shiver. His warm breath caressed her ear, and her breath replied on his neck.

"I'm sorry Molly. Seeing John like that.. Reminded me that I could lose you."

Smiling at his sudden burst of emotion, she replied;

"You'll never loose me. I'll stand by you, if you want me there or not, i'll be there. Because I love you, Sherlock."

"My partner in crime." His smile was felt on her neck.

They stood there, still in each others embrace, swaying slightly.

"Take me home Mr Holmes." The seductive tone in her voice pricked his interest, they went home speedily.

* * *

They lie panting in each others arms, the sweet mix of sweat and smoke filling the room. No words once again were said between coming home and making love. Now, laying on his chest, regulating his rising and falling chest, he spoke.

"When are you moving into 221B?" He said it matter of factly. Not taking him seriously, he chuckled. Kissing his hard chest, she replied;

"When you give me a good reason to move?" Her mind was racing. Of course she'd move in with him. That didn't mean she couldn't enjoy a bit of selfish sex. Moving her kisses down her body, it was her turn to be shocked.

"Ok. Miss Hooper, will you marry me?"

* * *

**_THANK YOU _**so much for everything, but I feel it is time to leave this story. Keep a lookout mind, as a Sherlolly die-hard fan, I will be starting other bits of fiction! You're all so kind, I have enjoyed every minute of writing :-) you lovely Sherlockians, will see you soon!


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